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Hemalayaa Is Trying To Kill Me

Hemalayaa wants me to be sexy.

Hemalayaa wants me to stand up and pulse my hips up and down and up and down and up and down and she keeps calling it a "relaxation move" but I have never before in my life relaxed and sweated and wept at the same time. Except between labor contractions.

Hemalayaa wants me to burn and she keeps laughing and giggling and she makes me jump from side to side, side to side, side to side and then lunge, lunge, lunge, and all in time to a watered-down Bhangra that sounds like a Punjabi wedding trapped in the white bread aisle of a grocery store.

Hemalayaa says, "Now lunge-hop-spin-waltz-step-spin-lunge-SMILE AND GET SEXY!" but I can't, Hemalayaa, I can't be sexy and shake my shoulders and bobble-wobble my head and get my "praise hands" going, I just can't.

Around my house, "sexy" is changing into my comfy pants and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia and stretching back on the sofa to leave just a hint of belly hang over the top of my waistband, looking for all the world like a warm, white slug. Me and my belly both.

Your kind of sexy hurts.

You are hurting me.

You are making me do things and my heart and lungs are complaining.

Your kind of sexy is a lot like...exercise.

My husband and I are getting old.

We like the kind of sexy where you get to sit down and have a few beers.

And a nap.

Where's the scene in the Bollywood movie where all the sexy people sit around and eat great curry and sing in impossibly soprano voices about taking a nap?

I would love to get my hips to do what these girls do, but somehow they don't seem to listen to my brain. It must be a genetic thing, either you have the hippy-hippy-shake gene or you don't, and it seems I don't. :(

LOL -- great post! Too funny. I'm picturing you trying it, though. I love videos for the mere fact that I can try them and put them away and never have to feel an ounce of guilt, unlike a gym membership.

One morning Julia woke up early and came downstairs to the den. She turned the TV on and one of those buttcrack-of-dawn workout shows was on. By the time she came back upstairs I was in the shower and she burst in to the bathroom and began telling me about the show: "Mummy! I turned on the television and there were ladies in little outfits jumping around and counting and smiling! What were they DOING?"

WTF is it with your first (Spam) comment? I love to exercise, but it needs to be wrapped like a burrito inside another kind of activity. Like hiking. Or running. Or...sex. (Afterwards? A beer and a nap)

You SLAY me! (surely that burns calories?) I thought I wanted a video like Hemalayaa's, because I kind of think that I was a Bollywood princess in a former life, but I now think better of it. Thank you.

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